


Before She Forgot Completely

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Ficlet, First Time, Incest, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:23:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan is beginning to forget England, and it scares her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before She Forgot Completely

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Oxoniensis' Porn Battle #7. I'd never even thought of the pairing before, and was surprised to find it had a following.

The first winter after the coronation the people of Narnia could not yet enjoy the return of snow, for no-one could quite believe the snows would ever recede and the year turn again to summer. And yet it did so, and did so again, and after a few summers Susan would hear her handmaidens speak longingly of winter, of how it reminded them so of their homes, and how every spring turned the world different. 'Better than the old days, to be sure, but... different.'

It was not snow that reminded Susan of her home, but her old clothes, tucked away in the closet, the incongruous streetlight, which she sometimes visited, and the way her brothers and sisters slipped into their modern English on occasion. Susan used to tell her handmaidens and new friends about the radio, about bombs, and about her mother, but as years passed, she found herself forgetting.

It frightened her at first.

One Christmas Eve she sat with her brother the High King beside a fire in their study, having escaped the celebrities into its relative calm. The fire danced, the music could still be heard echoing through the corridors of Cair Paravel, and she said to him, 'Do you remember when you wanted nothing so much for Christmas as a toy gun?'

'Gun?' Peter said, and it pained her to see how long it took him to comprehend the question. 'Guns were terrible things,' he said at last, covering his eyes for a moment. Behind both their eyes, she was sure, there was the cracking of bullets and bombs, and the memory of childish fear. 'I was foolish.'

'Yet a few years later you were just as happy to be handed a sword.'

'To fight with – to make a difference,' he said, which was not much of a defense, but she let it pass. Another hunger gripped her, just as strange, and she stood up beside him.

'Let me remember,' she begged in a whisper. Without getting up, he embraced her, burying his face in her muslin gown. 'We're all alone here,' she said. 'You and me and Edmund and Lucy. There isn't anyone else to remember.'

'Isn't it better this way?'

She knew he needed to believe it. She needed to embrace him, and so she climbed into his lap, cross-legged, her knees pressed into the back of his chair, and perched on his knees.

She said nothing as his shoulders stiffened, but pulled his head unto her breast. His hair smelled like crisp winter air and of himself, and when she closed her eyes she could almost see a wide gardened lawn, his fingers gripping a cricket bat.

She asked him to sleep with her that night, and he said yes. She undressed before him, in that hour of midnight, in the pale blue light, half-hidden in black shadows, transformed into someone who was not his sister, someone who just wanted to clutch a loved one for an hour. He seemed to see it. When she laid herself down and beckoned, he slipped out of his clothes and perched himself between her legs, waiting until she took his gorged member and placed it demandingly against her opening.

She had not expected to be so moist for him – she had not expected it not to hurt. He moved inside her slowly and deliberately, but there was sweat on his brow, and she touched his neck, and saw him moan with pleasure. Her face flushed hot, she began to move herself, coming up to meet him.

They finished in a ferocious embrace, the chamber still echoing their cries, sweaty and hot in their own pocket of warmth, the chamber winter-chilly around them.

Trembling, he got out of the bed and collected his clothing. She sank into the mattress, the smell of him all around her and England green in her memory.


End file.
